


Gracidea

by glancesherlock



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Alola, F/F, Gracidea, Nuzlocke, Romance, Storylocke, Ultra Sun, floette - Freeform, ribombee - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 11:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18387089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glancesherlock/pseuds/glancesherlock
Summary: Poppy is a Flabebe in seek of evolution, ascension, to become one with her lifelong companion: a yellow flower. Captured, far from home, and among strange 'mon, she will make the journey her own. Friendship and love and that incessant bee's buzzing all be damned.





	1. Buttercup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a storylocke based on a blind Ultra Sun dualtypelocke (water and fairy) I played.
> 
> Read on the Nuzlocke Forum: https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/nuzlocke_forum/gracidea-complete-t31654.html

Petals whisper warnings through the wind, kicking pollen around that falls to the ground, wasted. Their efforts fall deaf on my ears as I foolishly peek over their yellow heads. The scent of sea salt and pinap mixes in the air with the nectar. And the sound of stems breaking. There’s a trail of trampled friends leading to a pair of a giant’s feet. A beaded triangle sways on her pack. It is another warning. Humans branded with them only venture out here for one thing. Her eyes fix themselves on me. They’re dark and excited and dangerous. The moment her large finger points in my direction I know it is my time. 

A blue fellow rests at the trainer’s feet, gazing up at her like the most obedient servant. His tongue flaps at his cheek carelessly. Slobber flicks off. It disgusts me. At her word he makes a clumsy charge at me, but I tell him there is no need. I sit myself properly on a petal and hold tight to my favorite stamen. I await the capsule’s impact.

And I accept my fate.

*** * ***

I hold my reservations during the introductions. There’s so many of you already that names slip from my memory the instant I learn another. Only three stay with me after it’s all said and done. Lola, our trainer, for one. It felt the most important to me. She appears inexperienced and dense, but at the very least she has the good graces to grant me some adjustment time before thrusting me onto the nearest wild creature. Felix is the blue one. He is a right dolt. A self-proclaimed leader who’s too eager to please and too stupid to recognize an insult. Peaches only sticks out to me, because, next to Oricorio, Cottonee may be the worst possible neighbors in all of creation. A gust of wind picks up, and it snows foul fluff, getting everywhere and sticking to leaves and suffocating flowers. The amount of time I’ve spent cleaning up after them? Disgraceful. Withholding judgment on him proves difficult.

But your name might as well not exist, because I cannot for the life of me remember it. Which is surprising considering out of everyone on the team you have made the absolute worst impression. First you fly far too close to me, and then your twitchy little wings blow pollen off my steed, and then you have the audacity to sneeze in my face. I see you now trying to pick all the powder out of your hairs. Serves you right.

I steer my flower around the meadow that is no longer my home, staying close to Lola and recognizing acquaintances that she orders Felix and Peaches to attack. Being knocked out is not an alien concept to me. Last time the moon was full, a human with a beaded triangle targeted me with his Rockruff. That was not the first instance, either. Now I am the opposition. Thankfully I am not sent out.

You’re not very subtle, you know. I hear you back there, buzzing. Why are you following me? On second thought, don’t answer that. Just go. Bother the fat, pink one. He looks slow enough for your speed.

Of course you don’t listen. You hover in place and stare at me with those sparkling, unchanging eyes. I can’t gauge your emotions right now. Are you apologizing? Sick, perhaps? Or maybe you’re interested in my steed-

_NO!_

Get _back!_ What on _earth_ makes you think that’s yours to eat?!

I frantically smooth out the petal to inspect the damage you’ve done. Nothing is torn, only bent. I sigh in relief.

You make another advance, and I tug on a stamen to move away. Listen, I spent weeks scouring this meadow, risking life and limb, for the perfect bloom. Do you know how exposed my kind is without a flower for protection? I’ve been priming it to be used as my weapon and companion, infusing pixie dust and fortifying the stem, keeping it alive for the day it becomes a part of me. It is my life’s work, and I will not have some tiny insect destroy all my efforts.

Yes, I recognize we’re the same size, shove off.

This will have to be repaired. And since this is your doing, you’re going to help me. There’s a species of flower here that produces a special nectar - the kind those pom-pom birds love. I need to you gather some for me. The flower is yellow with - yes I know they’re all yellow. Allow me to finish. It will be four merous instead of five, do you know what that means? No? Look for a bloom with four petals. Not many have them, so it’ll stick out. The Oricorio might squawk at you, but pay them no mind. They’re noisy, greedy things with no bite or backbone.

Your expression is blank, unreadable.

What’s the matter? You’re used to having a Queen Bee, aren’t you? And following orders? I gave you a task, now shoo.

You’re gone for a while, and I spend my time growing familiar with Tribs, a Wingull. Quite easily the most amiable ‘mon on the team. His manner is simple and charming, and he seems to appreciate the same, subtle details about nature that I do. We comment on some leftover morning dew clung to a shady patch of grass. He brushes some into the Sunlight so we can watch them sparkle. I learn from him that our trainer is young and new to the field, and that many on the team are still getting acquainted. He says it could be a long journey, so the better we get along the smoother the road ahead. His tone is gentle, but I wonder if he’s alluding to my treatment of you.

He nods his head in a pleasant farewell when Lola calls him to fight. I sense no resentment from him. It’s relieving to know I may have a friend to keep me company.

When you return, I’m surprised by the amount of nectar you’ve managed to carry. Especially considering your legs might as well be strings. A thin trail drips behind you, and I gather what I can before it can all fall to the ground. Without hesitation I go to work preparing my steed. The crinkled petal is covered in gold as I massage it in with the pink dust that flows from my hands. The sun catches it, and I think of the morning dew. I can feel you watching and try my best to ignore your incessant buzzing in my ear.

You whisper your apologies, and the genuineness forces me to sigh. The petal will repair itself in time, I’ll see to that. No harm in the long run, truly. Though if you ever pull such a stunt again I will not hesitate to call a gale upon a fellow fairy.

Hmm, what was that? Your name? Say again.

Zuri.

Not a bad one, I suppose. It suits you, in a way.

Call me Poppy.


	2. Larkspur

Being a trainer’s warrior is a curious thing. Repeatedly forced in and out of consciousness to fight at a child’s command. Tucked away in my capsule there is no pain, but there is also no recollection. No sense of time or space or even self. It is sleep, but we never dream. The world blinks, and suddenly we’re somewhere we weren’t before. Everyone cocks their head at what fairies can accomplish, but human magic will always mystify me.

My primary protests are quieted by promises of evolution and greater strength. When I challenge Lola that battling alone will not complete my life’s cycle, she vows to find the stone I will one day require. Florges. To unite with the flower we tend to and hold fast. Our weapon, our steed. The companion that grants us dust and magic. It is a fate sought by all of my kind, but achieved by few. The hope of ascension is enticing enough for me to yield, and I turn my biting dust on a wild rat.

After a time, Lola allows us longer periods of freedom. You and Felix make further attempts at friendship. I’m not the least bit amused. At least you don’t try to impress by balancing a ball on your nose. The one I gravitate towards, again, is Tribs. He never seeks to boast or make idle of anything. He simply is - educating the others and providing advice when prodded. If only he’d cease trying to better my attitude. One evening he offers that I make peace with Peaches, as we are compatriots. I tell him that our natural dissonance will not be abandoned in our meadow. The cotton head seems to agree. He’s taken to calling me _Poppycock_ under his breath. Charming.

At mealtimes our trainer seeks to entertain with stories. My knowledge of human culture grows as she uses phrases such as _fairy tales_ and _reading_ and _a book._ I can tell you right away whoever came up with these tales has never met a fairy in their life. Too many princesses and knights, not enough intricacies on the never ending quest to survive and gain enlightenment through the guardianship of nature and its children. Lola explains that isn’t the point. I say they need a new point.

All the same, you and Felix and most of the others gather around and lap them up like the only drink to quench an eternal thirst. You especially seem enthralled. Resting on the child’s shoulder and staring at the pages with such fixation, you almost fool me to think you can read yourself. Your sincere interest is almost contagious. Almost. I cannot abide this insult to our kind. The Sun knows how you do.

For days I lose myself in training. Every foe that falls, I brace for the light I hope to follow. When it doesn’t shine, I search for another poor soul. I break for food and rest and little else. My impatience gets the best of me, but in my frustration I continue forward, leaving a trail of dust and torn earth in my wake. Until finally my efforts bring me success.

My evolution is exhilarating.

What a surge of energy - what a rush of power! Light and pixie dust envelope me, and I feel my body warp and elongate. My tail grows green and spade-like, and my ears elongate. Sounds are clearer, sights are more alive. I have… elbows and proper hands, my word. I’m now able to grasp my flower by the stem. I’ll miss steering with my stamen, but I’m far too large for it to support my weight now. My turn to carry it along.

I’m rewarded with a sugary bean from Lola - a treat she passes to us freely - while the others gather to pat me on the back. Felix offers his flipper in congratulations, but I’m dubious as to what he expects from me. I hear a whisper from Tribs that I’m supposed to hit it. My compliance serves as a switch to activate a celebratory back-flip. What a fool.

The final and softest good wishes come from you. Or maybe you offered them before, but they were lost in the flurry of excitement. It’s strange seeing you so small now. Size will take the most getting used to. Though growth has not improved my appetite. These beans are far too large for me to consume on my own. Here, I understand you prefer the purple ones.

It is without reluctance that I admit your company has grown less troublesome. Over the last few days you’ve proven yourself capable of conversation and poise. Your buzzing remains to be piercing white noise, but it has grown tolerable. I’m nearly glad to call you my… acquaintance. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You pegging my flower for a meal is still a strike against you. We are still in the process of coming to terms with each other. For the most part, you’re not much to figure out. Quiet, kind, albeit annoying. Eager to please. A passive soul, save for rare occasions. But what I don’t comprehend is your newfound fawning over Peaches.

Was it because he so gallantly swooped in to rescue you from that vicious spider monster? You’ve been listening to Lola’s stories too much. Listen, I was out of my ball for the whole battle. I witnessed what you missed. After we all had our moment of panic for your safety, Lola sent out Peaches in your stead. And while you were tucked away in your ball, he merely stunned the beast before turning tail and freeing up the battlefield for Tribs to bring it down. Perhaps those details escaped you? They did from our resident Cottonee. Remember that the next time he flaunts his bravery. Our trainer may have been caught off guard, but I will grant the child this: she stuck to her strategy then adapted. Peaches was a part of it. He didn’t do it for you, dear.

Don’t give me that look. It’s only for your own good that I’m telling you this. If you insist on chasing after one of our team members, might I suggest someone with sincere convictions? Po appears a cuddly pink fellow, though he may be too slow for your speed after all. I honestly can’t see you with Tribs. Felix is fine if you don’t mind his energy and the smell of sea salt. Quartz… I’m unsure if Carbink dance to that tune. Why, Timothy might be a good match for you.

Ah yes, Timothy - the new Golden Boy. And a catalyst for Felix’s cheerful antics. Burst from the egg with a song in his heart playing on a broken record. He tore up the grass like a plow and stained himself green in his efforts to greet everyone. Lola all but crammed those sugary beans down his throat. Something about earning his affection. I told her with his demeanor it wouldn’t take long. Sure enough, his brown fur soon turned a creamy white with carnation pink, and from his mane sprung ribbons that had a life of their own. He took to chasing them in a circle immediately. Another pure simpleton. Indeed, I think the two of you would get along swimmingly.

Hm? Oh come now, you know very well we don’t mature the same as humans.

But what do I know? Burn for your cotton trash. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

*** * ***

When I next materialize, something is amiss. Lola holds her arms and shakes. Felix hugs her leg, helpless. Timothy kneads her other side. You rub yourself against her cheek in comfort. The sight is disquieting enough for my suspicions to rise. A premonition strikes my bones.

Someone has died.

At my request, Tribs - now a Pelliper - takes me aside to explain what happened. Her name was Mim. I was unacquainted with her. A Dewpider from Brooklet Hill who met her end in the volcano’s shadow. It is unfortunate, but the news leaves little impact on me. Tribs appears the same, or perhaps he’s merely burying his grief for the sake of the others. We’ll remain silent for Felix’s sake, but I believe there’s a quiet understanding of who the true leader is here.

I offer you my condolences, but am surprised when you admit you didn’t know her either. That you were in the Box, same as me. How is it you feel so saddened by this? No, I’m not insinuating that death is trifle, I’m only… Oh, I see.

Yes, go take care of Lola. I’m certain the child needs your company now. Tickle her face with your nose. Make her laugh.

You singular thing, you.


	3. Heather

The Sun have mercy on anyone who orders me to leave this jungle. Dancing around the outskirts for a fortnight, I could hear the floral whispers, but now in the midst of it I’m treated with a symphony of voices sweeter and grander than my meadow could ever offer me.

You and the others fade from my attention as I greet each bloom. Pinks and whites and violets and reds and oranges nestled in green beds, falling and rising to greet my hand and the light. So many colors and shapes and lifetimes. I would spend my own tending to them, had I the freedom. Their leaves and petals tell stories of battles won and lost against the wilds. There are trees with fluorescence. And vines. And shrubs, too. I’ve never seen such a thing. What a wondrous place that I might have locked myself from had I never been caught. If nothing else, I have this to thank our girl for.

Shadows stretch much farther along the ground than when we arrived, and I curse myself for wandering off for so long. It is my understanding that Lola has come here for one of her trials. This one was a scavenger hunt, to my knowledge. She must be hard at work with it to not worry about keeping me close. I wonder if I’m missed. Or if you all let me be. It’s more surprising than not that I feel the urgency to return. I even go so far as to reassure myself with guesses as to what the rest of you could be doing. One of Tribs’s mandatory training sessions comes to mind. Yes, that must be it.

The flowers guide me through, directing my path and where to turn. They do not warn me of any danger, but I still stop cold as I come upon a large creature quite unknown to me. It is human-like - white and purple and grasps a collection of ferns in its hand, with which it fans itself. A bed of leaves is arranged neatly around it, and I worry I may have stumbled across a nest. Fear grips me for only a moment until I recognize no aggression in its eyes. They are tired and sunken into its face, and they watch me with curiosity. My kind is unfamiliar to it as well. We gaze at one another, two ‘mon who were never meant to meet, taking each other in until we respect each other’s existence. I nod in farewell. The gesture is returned. Then I leave.

The farther I float, the more aware I become of just how deep into this jungle I’ve gone. A dreadful thought becomes impossible to shake, that without the help of my friends I would be lost in here forever.

Then as if some cruel entity read my mind, the voices are gone. There is silence, not just from the flowers, but from everything. There is no wind, no leaves crunching, no birds chirping. Only my own breathing. My nose picks up where my ears left off as it takes everything in. Nectar, soil, the stink of ‘mon, pheromones, and… something very spicy.

The attack from behind comes without warning. My cry echos off the trees as I’m struck to the ground, and my flower is knocked from my hand. My assailant is monstrous. A towering, magenta beast that blots out the Sun and sky. It raises two long, clawed arms in challenge. It’s cry is piercing. I realize with horror that my weapon has landed too far out of my reach. My source of magic.

I… I am flightless without it.

With lightning speed, a claw thrusts at me, and I’m narrowly able to roll out of its way before it plunges into the earth an inch away. The ground shakes. I desperately grab at the moss and grass to I drag myself towards my flower. Reaching it is my only salvation. I’m cut off by a second strike that lands just in front of my face. The impact leaves me frozen. The reality seeps in that I will not make it. I swallow my fear, and though the taste lingers I turn away from the ground. Like my mother bloom, I will face my death.

I smell pollen. And dust, pixie dust. There is a light, and suddenly here you are. Your first attack barrels into the creature’s face. It falters and cries. You fly into view, another orb of golden dust growing between your arms. Your new arms, I should say. It appears you’ve been busy while I was absent. You look fiery and determined. If not for your actions, I might not have recognized you. Or felt such hope and relief.

As you pelt the creature with pollen, I take my opportunity to retrieve my weapon. I grasp rocks and blades of grass, focusing only on my task, until I finally wrap my hand around the stem. The damage to it from the fall is minimal, I’ll be more than able to repair it. My departure from the ground is as natural as breathing. The ability to form dust returns. I am complete once again.

By now the beast has had enough. I’m unable to help you as you’ve taken it down yourself. It charges off into the brush, surely to lick its wounds until it can terrorize again. You turn to me with reassurance in your eyes. There’s a new confidence there. Evolution has been kind to you, it seems. I almost race to your side, but I’m stuck floating in place. All words fail me except to say that we’re the same size again.

I’m yanked away as Felix envelops and smothers me with his flippers. My only instinct is to hold my flower out of the way of being crushed. I’m nearly choked with his horrid sea-salt scent. Lola barrages me with questions and thoughts of worry while Timothy bounces to a fro, his flesh ribbons flopping every which way. The commotion addles and frustrates me as the full weight of what occurred presses in. The moment Felix rubs his nose at my face I release a wave of sharp pixie dust and wrench myself from his grasp. He yelps from surprise and the pain. The others grow quiet. Po delays a gasp. I smack your hand away as it comes to rest on my shoulder and flee as quickly as I can. My face grows hot with embarrassment. All I want is to hide.

A tree hollow suffices perfectly. I curl away from the light and busy myself in my work, repairing only what matters. My tears flow in silence, and I don’t come out, not even long after Tribs has talked me down.


	4. Calla Lily

Vacation, Lola calls it.

My third week on the team marks the one-month anniversary since the start of her island challenge. She offers us a few days of rest to commemorate. Most react with eagerness. I’m neither disappointed nor excited. It’s simply another three days away from my meadow. Peaches is the only one who scoffs. He floats off, boldly announcing how he plans to spend his free time training against the wilds. Bloodthirsty, that one.

I hear a buzz that’s much softer than before as you zip up to me. You annoyingly flick the end of a petal and remind me with a wink not to lose it. Yes, yes, we’re all very impressed by your performance against that Lurantis. Truth be told, I might have taken it down myself if not for - oh, stop that laughing! You horrible, jaded thing. Careful now, with that new size you might become too big for your britches. Don’t misunderstand me, your battling skills have vastly improved since your evolution, but if you insist on boasting like this - Hm? Oh, of course your wings look lovely today. Why do you ask?

Your blushing gives you away. You’re hopeless. Yes, go swoon over the cotton ball while he sucks the life out of the local fish. Do tell me how it goes. I’ll be waiting with bated breath.

Don’t give me that look.

After you fly off, Tribs and I settle ourselves on what he explains to me is a beach chair. We’re sure to choose one out of the shade. The Sunshine is too bright and rejuvenating to pass up. I could almost live off it. Once I locate the right stone and merge myself with my flower, I will.

I share this with Tribs. He’s expressed interest in my species and how complex we are, often referring to himself as _just a simple bird._ I tell him that isn’t true. He’s a simple bird who spits water. The comment earns me an unamused brow raise. I laugh it off.

All the same, it is fun to educate him. While we chat I notice a kink in my flower’s stem and attend to it with my dust. He watches with keen interest and asks how I’m able to make it. Unfortunately I cannot give a straight answer. I do not _draw it out_ like a lizard breathing fire or _call upon it_ like Po evokes his physic waves. It is granted to me by my flower, and my kind is the only one able to harness it. Yet there is no… effort, so to speak. What looks to the world as magic is but a reflex for me. As natural as moving one’s arms - or flapping one’s wings, in his case.

We sit in silence, and I make a valiant attempt to push past the stench of salt and allow myself to simply exist and observe the others. Po is sprawled out asleep in the middle of the beach. Several humans nearly trip over him as they pass. An occasional tail flick is the only sign of life from him. I’m amazed he can sleep so soundly with how loud our trainer and her friends are. As I turn my attention to them, Lola and the boy are egging on the golden-haired girl to join them in the water. She protests, declaring it too cold. My trainer responds by pulling her down so that her head disappears below the surface for a moment. Her shrill complaints are met with applause and laughter. Makes me wonder, not for the first time, what it is like to have a child’s disposition.

Speak of the devil.

Timothy excited paws dance every which way as he begs me and Tribs to take part in burying Felix in the sand. The Brionne waves in encouragement, his tail already covered. He’s been uncomfortably quick to forgive me since the incident. Condescension would be the correct term if it were anyone else. Overcompensation is a better fit. Like he’s the sorry one. His efforts to extend an olive branch have been grating. Exaggerated compliments and attempts to charm me with his talents. Back-flips and balancing objects on one’s nose does nothing to mend what isn’t broken. One day he’ll learn that not every person was meant to befriend one another.

I break it to Timothy gently that my small size would only slow him down. It is a lie, but playing to his pride is easier than arguing. Besides, sand is so course and rough compared to the loamy soil I was so accustomed to. Loose and hot and leaving residue on everything. The thought of digging my hands through it for laughs repulses me.

Tribs merely replies that he is tired.

*** * ***

Sorry. Slow down, Zuri. I cannot understand a word when you speak so fast.

…Now I’m not certain I heard you correctly at all. A bouquet for a what? What on earth is a wedding?

Lola is able to explain it better. The joining of two people - or ‘mon - in a ceremony declaring love and devotion in front of witnesses. Vows to support one another and become a single entity until death.

The concept is not unfamiliar to me. I think of my flower and how one day I will be merged with it, granting me power and freedom as thanks for all that I’ve given it. How we will become each other. Yes, such an occasion as this does deserve a bouquet. I bow to my trainer and offer my best and most skilled services.

Stop that snickering, you. My art is nothing to be mocked.

What you must understand about flowers is language is everything. When one puts a collection together one is conveying something words could never hope to speak. Thus each piece of the message must be chosen carefully. My pickings are slim on such short notice, but I come across a grove of creamy white blooms, for purity. A human handful of frilly pink buds, for new love, and sprigs of fern, for stability, will compliment them. Tribs is invaluable help carrying everything to my crafting station on a stone. He balances them in his beak with such care that it’s a wonder his kind is so abhorred as clumsy chumps.

Your tiny hands are the only pair I trust to hold my flower as I go to work. Why I didn’t expect you to play with it is my own blunder. The yellow petals spin as you twirl the stem one way then the other. Your enchanted gaze at its beauty charms me only for a moment before I startle you with a shrill _ahem!_ That is a weapon, darling, not a toy.

I arrange the flowers so neatly and perfectly that I’m mesmerized by the presentation. White circles leaving spaces between them for pink friends to fill. All framed in a soft green. Such a sight renews my gratitude to the world’s flora for lending me its magic.

A nudge from Tribs takes me out of my trance. With reluctance, I offer up my creation. Lola sacrifices one of her braids to provide me with a ribbon to tie it off. My bouquet is passed off to a bright, yellow lady I’m told is a Pikachu. She joins another of her kind, a male, and they stroll together a small ways down the cobblestone plane. A small boy, yet younger than my trainer. gives them instructions. Their mouths touch. There are _ooohs_ and _awws_ from the others. It is a curious ritual. Though my eyes only care for the cluster of beauty pinched between small, golden paws.

It is soon after discarded in a broken mess on the ground.

Someone rattles an explanation. Fury races through me as I realize my hard work was wasted on a prop for a children’s game. I throw raging words at whoever is closest. Lola implores me to calm myself, the pixie dust swirling around my hands must frighten her. Felix seizes his chance by snatching up what’s left of the bouquet and honoring to treasure it. Another olive branch. When will he learn I’m allergic?

I do not run off again. Much as you all strive to be kind, there are still whispers and cautious looks in my direction. My will cannot handle more. My eyes close. I respond to no one’s words. I breathe. None of you matter, and neither should this. The mantra brings me down.

When I reunite with the world, you’re busy tying a blade of grass into a knot around a posy: remains even Felix left behind. One white flower, torn, and three pink companions - all wilted with unbalanced heights - and then a single fern bent over. It is… not the worst I’ve seen.

There’s a mix of culpability and serenity in your expression as you present it to me. After I merely stare and not reach for it, you shove it closer to my face. You are incorrigible. Fine. Hand it here. The arrangement is much to be desired, but at least the scent is revitalizing.

We remain there, me floating with an armful of flowers, and you buzzing and rubbing your hands together. It’s unclear to me what you want. Your gaze averts me in favor of the soil. I suppose our fate is to remain here in troublesome silence, then? It won’t do. Either speak to me or leave me in peace. My mind prescribes the remedy as it turns to the one thing I most wish to ask you. But the moment I mention Peaches, you dart off with the excuse that Quartz wants help scratching their ears.

Avoidance does not become you, dear. In fact, it is rather telling. And a broken heart makes for a dangerous unkempt secret.


	5. Anthurium

The Poliwag is not the first I’ve seen disappear into a light blue capsule, but the sight is curious all the same. Witnessing someone suddenly gone but still in existence remains unnatural and disconcerting. Yet another creature plucked from the wild to be hidden away and never seen or heard from again. I wonder when our trainer will be satisfied.

As I lower my weapon, there’s a cry of celebration behind me from the cheer squad. Neither Felix nor Timothy share my sentiment, as per usual. They gather on either side of Lola while she registers the new catch in her strange, glowing, talking device. It lists information in its alien voice, practically dancing out of my trainer’s hands as it does so. Tribs once informed me a small ghost inhabits it. Just when I thought I’d heard everything.

After our venture on the beach went so awry, the return to training is a welcome routine. The decision to spend this time in a vast garden is all the better for my spirits. I stick by your side. It takes me longer than you to finish a fight, and thus I’m dealt more wounds. A large cut on my arm from a spider’s claw brings me to want a break and some medicine from Lola. You stop me and gather golden dust in your hand. It washes over my injury, and I observe in amazement as it closes the skin together. The pain subsides. You beam proudly. I wasn’t aware your pollen could heal. …Extraordinary.

Let’s continue on, then.

You must permit me to gag at every instance you glance back at Peaches for his approval at your victories, because honestly the sight is disgusting. If he’s paid any attention he praises with empty that words you lap up like a starved fool. Either you’ve moved past whatever he told you last week, or it’s encouraged you to try harder. Neither case is reassuring to me.

For a while I’m paired with your charming beau - much to my dismay. It is my fortune that he is a reliable battling companion but my misfortune that he is a cad. Hovering over an unconscious Psyduck, he soaks in the Sun and the essence he just absorbed. He deems this the opportunity to speak to me about evolution, and how much of it has occurred lately. It is true. Both Felix and Po have reached their final forms, leaving me and the cotton head as the only ones yet to achieve this dream. He expresses what are admittedly not illegitimate concerns about falling behind the others, should our respective stones not be found. Though the moment I move to agree, he interrupts to clarify that only one of us is likely to grow weak over time. He does not strike me as one to self-deprecate.

I retaliate by stating that my strive towards evolution is an achievement in destiny. It is a rite. Not a means to greater harm. My position as a trainer’s ‘mon forces me to stay on the offense, but I gladly do it with understanding that I will be rewarded in the end. It is the accord between Lola and myself. He grunts and claims I’ll feel differently after our teammates are running circles around my abilities.

My dear, if you are attracted to power, you’ve found it in spades. But the kind soul you possess deserves better than what he will offer you. Perhaps it is appropriate his signature technique is sapping the life out of others.

*** * ***

The Sun is sinking, but I wish to remain in the garden a little while longer. What it lacks in the jungle’s splendor it makes up for with the comforts of my old home. Flowers with open spaces and calm waters. Besides, Felix’s evolution has gifted him a singing voice that could shatter ice. Another feather in his glittery cap. Lovely as it is, he’s insisted on communicating through song and dance these last few hours, and I covet a moment of peace. Lola gives a gentle reminder that we’re to spend the evening in the library. I remember where it is and promise to rendezvous there before dark. You volunteer to stay behind with a wink and a tease not to allow history to repeat itself. You grow cheekier by the day.

Our stroll becomes a lecture as I list off each species and describe the care they require. I translate their whispers - greetings and wishes of good fortune. You listen with such perfect interest that I half-worry you might be taking after Felix. But your responses are deeper, more thought-out. Not so many over-excited exclamations of wonder. Only curiosity. We float down the river bank, admiring a grove of baby blue darlings that grow along it. You ask me what they mean. Remembrance - a gift for when one must part another for a time. Carrying one is a sign of devotion. I once held a sprig of it before I realized her feelings were a farce.

Wipe that look of surprise off your face. Of course I’ve known love. Well, a false love, but it was real on my part. I abandoned a life for her, and she left me waiting and cold in the dead of summer. I was unable to see past the patch in her broken promise, and it became a rock that shattered something deep. Crumpling the bloom she gave me sprouted the means to guard myself from then on. There isn’t much else to it you need to know. I only bring it up for your sake. Perhaps you could take note of me. As your friend, it is my responsibility to advise you in your shortcomings.

Yes, you heard me, I said friend. Don’t get all giddy on me now. I’ve yet to forgive you completely for our first encounter. Your company is merely enjoyable now.

Why must you always laugh at me?

You’ve yet to clarify what about Peaches makes him to appealing to you. If you say his good looks, by the Sun’s rays, I will toss you by the wing into this river. Yes, I agree he is strong and determined and helps carry this team, but it’s in the wrong way and for the wrong reasons. Selfish motivations do not a loyal friend make. See? You hesitate to contradict me. Those are you instincts, dear. I suggest you listen to them.

I still say you should try for Timothy. He is a sweet boy, and even if he rides Felix’s coattails, he is much calmer and pleasant when he’s on his own. Ha! Not into quadrupeds, I see. Very well. Put your sour face away. I’ll stop.

Dark clouds gather over our heads. They are striking next to the blaze-orange sky. I smell fresh water before it reaches the ground. Only in a mist at first, but it isn’t long before the shower falls in full. I welcome the drops as they cover my skin. You squeak in agitation and twitch about in a way I’ve never seen you behave.

That’s right. Your kind isn’t fond of the rain, is it?

Here. My flower is not a perfect umbrella, but it will shield you well enough until we reach the library. Think of it as a makeshift Sun. No, don’t take it, you fool, just… We’ll share. There you go. Now hold tight and stay close.

Not that close.


	6. Anemone

Losing Tribs is more than I can bear.

No matter how hard I try to clear it from my mind, the memory of that Masquerain’s razor sharp wings slashing at him plagues me. I’m propelled back to that moment each and every time. It’s cruelty is the same. Me rushing to him. You readying dust to heal. Realizing he’s already gone. My wail and yours. Quartz charging forward in some act of vengeance. The white-haired man’s wicked laugh. Lola’s cry. Humans yelling and making a scene. Everything from there is reduced to my hand resting against his bill. I do no remember being returned to my capsule.

And now I rest on a cold seat in a Center. I’ve come to know them as places of healing, but there is nothing to remedy this here. The air is a thick and heavy burden on my shoulders. The energy to float escapes me. My flower wilts from a kink in the stem. I make no move to mend it.

Felix watches me from far off, and for the first time he has the good sense to stay quiet. His head sits on a cushion. The look in his eyes is a lost as I am. Timothy pads over and offers a comforting paw. Po sets himself nearby, oblivious. I don’t believe he’ll grasp the news for a while yet. Quartz floats above with their eyes closed. Peaches is alone, but close. The empty space Tribs once filled removes me further from the group.

They can stay where they are.

You’re with Lola. You haven’t left her side since… She exits a back room with her friends and two taller humans. They speak quietly to her as she sobs. I see you settled on her shoulder with your cheek pressed against hers. You wipe a tear away from it. I feel a foreboding ember inside.

The others move to greet her. Even Peaches. They surround the child in embrace. She is forgiven… for a battle we should not have fought. After the warnings and the red flags presented to her, she still accepted the challenge. This consequence is but a stepping stone. Like Mim. The ember flares. She will continue from here, I know it. She fished me out of my meadow and carried me from island to island and told me to fight and put me with the rest of you, and I formed bonds I never meant to, and emotions grew only to be shattered, and all she will do is move forward in her trivial quest! How many more us is need to die before-

Your hands grasp my shoulders. I snap out of something.

I’m floating. I don’t remember rising. Bright, red pixie dust drips from my hand. Your look of worry guilts me to fade it away. _She doesn’t know what she’s gotten into,_ you remind me. _She’s a little girl who loves to swim and read fairy tales._

Well maybe such a child does not deserve the responsibility.

Please. Please don’t look at me like that.

My resolves breaks. Hands tightly clutch my damaged stem. My fire is dowsed by tears. Forgive me, I am lashing. Leave me be. Attend to Lola. You have a way with her the rest of us don’t.

No, I mean it. Go. You can’t help. Don’t try, don’t…

The golden glow that shines between us reflects stars in your eyes. Never have I known a clear night sky to rain. I hold my breath as you press the pollen against my chest. The determination in the act breaks me all the more.

Darling… I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.

*** * ***

I watch the moon wane and wax before we attempt to move forward. In that time, the empty space expands until a chasm separates me from the rest. I cannot see the bottom. Part of me fears I shall fall in, should I try to cross. But I have no desire to. It was I who built it, after all. I merely float along the edge and observe. Timothy grows stronger. Po becomes quicker. Peaches is united with a Sun-like stone and evolves. Quartz… leaves us. After an all-too intense trial against the ghost doll, they’ve come out the other side wanting nothing more to do with this endeavor. Whether it is out of fear or wisdom is difficult to surmise, but no one is able to dissuade them. They flee to a life on the mountainside. Another loss to the team. I wonder if my presence is accounted as another absence.

Of course, you do not fear the chasm or its depths. You fly across without hesitating or looking down, your words of encouragement offering me a ferry to the other side. I am sorry, but despite your best efforts, I’ve found contentment in the solitude. I am fine. Truly. Go on, shoo. I’m sure you have more pressing things to do. Oh, but… Well, was that my hand or yours that held on longer just now?

Forget it.

There is one other poor soul who tries to bridge the gap, though he is not so successful. Felix has come to incessantly fidget at me from a distance, clearly wanting to inquire about something. I ignore him long enough for him to grow tired and return to… not what I would call leading the team.

He’s all over the place, to be sure. Not nearly as commanding or organized as… Well anyway, he’s not good at this. At all. Though it does not help when Peaches - his fluff now inflated enough to house his ego - butts his brown nose into the business. Stings me as it does to admit this, he fits the role comfortably, save for that brutish nature of his. (Though so help me, if he ever tries to give me an order or drops so much as one _Poppycock_ in my direction, I will not hesitate.) By the end of each training day, the team is more drained than I’ve ever seen it, and yet the cotton-head insists on everyone getting back up. It forces Lola to intervene more than normal.

And at the end of the day, Felix is left watching his methods fail in favor of another’s. It’s clear by his heartbroken expression that it is - at long last - dawning on him. That he is not a leader. That he never was one. And that perhaps he was never meant to be.

It oddly comforts me to think that it may do him some good.

*** * ***

It’s very rare that Lola should keep us all out of our capsules overnight, but there was talk of those black-clothed vermin stalking about, and it’s clearly frightened her. So here we are, off in our respective corners of this dark room, all sound asleep, save for myself. My flower took a beating today, and I decisively waited until nightfall to repair it in silence. Besides, the dark enhances the beauty and glow of my pixie dust, and watching it shine pink against the green and yellow of my companion is a lovely sight.

I glance at the cushion next to mine, where you sleep. Part of me feels secure that you’re not curled up with Peaches. I shall live a thousand lifetimes without comprehending what the two of you have, but when you don’t have it, things are all the better. For you. I yet hold onto hope this may be the last of it so that you might move on. And on these nights when I might spend it in mourning for my dear friend, I can instead observe how your folded wings catch the dust and sparkle with a glow that warms me, and suddenly my chasm doesn’t feel quite so impassable.

Back to work if I’m to get any sleep tonight.

As I smooth out the end of a petal, my bliss is interrupted by a scratching sound. I extinguish the light.

Part of me is tenses for a battle, but I’m relaxed when I see it’s only Felix clumsily bouncing himself to the side of the bed. Lola is as sprawled as she could be, with one arm and leg hanging over the edge. Timothy presses against her, almost protectively. Both are nearly snoring. With more care and patience than I’ve seen him do anything, Felix gingerly lifts our trainer’s arm by the wrist and elbow and sets it at her side. He does the same with her leg. Then with one flipper he grasps the blanket and drapes it over her. It is curious to watch as he pats her head. His gaze lifts to the window for a long while, alert.

He then drags himself, tail scraping against the carpet, past the table on which our cushions rest. I’m unaware if he’s noticed that I’m still awake. Positioning himself against the door, his eyes take one last scan of the room before he curls around himself and closes them.


	7. Rose

Look at me - no, please, don’t turn away! If I had any notion you would be this distraught-

…

My actions were below my dignity, I understand, but Peaches was out of line. The way he spoke of me and Tribs - listen!

Please… come back…

*** * ***

Three days have passed since my moonlit sparring match with our self-proclaimed leader. I’ve ruined his good looks; that’s a trophy I’ll treasure until my days’ end. Of course I shall never share with you the joy his scars bring me. He may synthesize all he likes, but the reminder of an unevolved ‘mon besting him in combat will remain. Flower magic bests cotton spores, as is the natural order. _Poppycock,_ indeed!

…I must stop this.

This was not training. This was not a test. This was a vicious brawl of poisoned pride, and I’m in disbelief that your interference saved even a splinter of mine. It is a shivering memory: lying flat on the ground, grasping the dirt, my energy ripped out of me. I couldn’t move. My weapon failed me. I hear the flowers cry out in fear for me. The night stole the Sun and what strength I would harness to combat the attack. The furious red in my meager pixie dust matched the blood sliding down his heinous face. Through the florid crimson I discovered my revulsion, my jealousy, my outrage, and, most of all, my frailty. It grew into a revelation that this was never about myself or dear Tribs.

You. And your soft buzzing. Your laugh. Your curiosity. Your kindness. The shimmer in your wings when the light catches them. It all greets me like the aroma of a song I heard once in a meadow. I prick myself on your sharp, soft smile, and it seeps a familiar poison into my heart. It is altogether sweet and dangerous, and it cannot be.

There was a moment of weakness under the guise of strength - I felt the Moon and what it could offer. A sister of my Sun, it called to my weapon, who whispered to me the spell to break past Peaches’ hold. My dear companion, whom I shall accept as myself, was compelled to repay me. I grasped the stem and lunged and sent him to the ground in a brilliant blast of dust. His cotton rained down on our battlefield. He lied there, beaten and broken. He stared at me like he beheld a monster. I felt hollow. This was not what I wished.

It was all the more unbearable to watch you comfort him. Because you saw. Because you wept. Because you went to him. Perhaps if I had the grace and control of Florges, I might have ended it sooner, better. Not resorted to such raw power. Not made you suffer so.

It has become imperative that I should evolve.

Unfortunately, my actions have secured me time away from the team. Possibly until the end, whenever that may be. Lola stares at the ground as I plead to the child to reconsider. She’s second-guessing herself. I could convince her if I had but one ‘mon on my side. None interject. I recognize fear in Timothy’s poor eyes. Our two newest members watch the drama unfold with intensity. A metal fairy with a collection of keys and a white snow-fox, already evolved. Will there be a place for me after they’ve proved their worth?

You are absent from my sentencing, and it breaks me. I must say goodbye. I _must_ tell you - No! It’s not true, it’s not, it’s not. Not again, please-

A flipper lightly touches my arm and wakes me from my panic. I freeze at Felix’s gaze. He assures me it is temporary, that he’ll see to it. Damn him and his charity. Damn me for accepting it.

I stare at the capsule nestled in the girl’s palm. My prison for an unforeseeable future.

Zuri, when I return - if I return - please forgive me.


	8. Extra: She Won't Say It

Poppy sits on a bed of moss, attending to her flower. The starlit night makes the pixie dust dancing around her hands sparkle brighter than normal. It’s pink, as it should be. A color stemming from something intangible and deep. It’s comfortable.

A buzzing sound whispers behind her. She whips around, and her chest lowers at the sight of a passing Ledyba. The disappointment is palpitating.

Her eyes flick to her companion’s center. Bits of pollen stick to the stamens, waiting to be carried away by a breeze. She waves at them, calling forth the magic. They turn gold and swirl about her hand. For a brief, uncomfortable moment she wonders if she should use it, but gold is… unwise. She’s felt its sting before, and it came with a never-ending recovery. Her breath blows them away. Best not to try that again.

Pink is far safer.

She sighs, and music starts from somewhere.

POPPY  
If there’s a prize for rotten judgment  
I guess I’ve already won that.  
No ‘mon is worth the aggravation

Felix, upon hearing the call of a Disney musical number, bursts his head excitedly out of bush behind her.

POPPY  
That’s ancient history  
Been there, done that.

He bumps up against her shoulder and sings in his finest falsetto, complete with shimmying and clutching his heart. She side-eyes him as she becomes increasingly annoyed.

FELIX  
Who ya think you’re kidding?  
She’s the earth and heaven to ya  
Try to keep it hidden  
Honey, I can see right through ya

POPPY  
Oh nooooooo

She pushes him off, only for him to appear on her other side, eyebrows going a mile a minute.

FELIX  
Girl, you can’t conceal it  
I know how you feel  
And who you’re thinking of

She shoves him away.

POPPY  
Ooooh  
No chance, no way  
I won’t say it, no, no

She’s suddenly illuminated in pink, and she looks up to see Felix positioned in a tree with a heart-shaped spotlight aimed at her and making over-dramatic gestures.

FELIX  
You swoon, you sigh  
Why deny it? Uh-oh

POPPY  
It’s too cliche  
I won’t say I’m in love

She floats out of the light and comes upon a rose bush. When she tries to touch one, a thorn pricks her. She shakes her hand.

As she sings, Felix rapidly sets up a platform with lights and fog machines. He flips on a face shield and welds something together with a blow torch.

POPPY  
I thought my heart had learned its lesson  
It feels so good when you start out  
My head is screaming get a grip, girl  
Unless you’re dying to cry your heart out  
Oooh!

Over a dozen green, pink, and purple lights flare up, some dance back and forth. Fog blows everywhere. Felix rises onto the stage playing a keyboard and wearing outrageous sunglasses worthy of Elton John. He flips on a synthesizer so he can harmonize with himself.

FELIX  
You keep on denying  
Who you are and how you’re feeling  
Baby, I’m not buying  
Hon, I saw you hit the ceiling

Poppy shakes her head in perturbed disbelief, but continues on anyway.

POPPY  
Oh nooooooo

FELIX  
Face it like a grown up  
When you gonna own up  
That you got, got, got it bad?

Fireworks shoot off from behind the stage. The middle one is in the shape of Zuri’s face.

POPPY  
Ooooh  
No chance, no way  
I won’t say it, no, no

She whips around, away from the whole ridiculous display.

FELIX  
Give up, give in

He lowers his sunglasses to the end of his nose.

FELIX  
Check the grin, you’re in love

She crosses her arms in a defiance.

POPPY  
This scene won’t play  
I won’t say I’m in love

FELIX  
You’re doin’ flips  
Read my lips: You’re in love

He lets his hair down and uses Sparkling Aria. The flurry of bubbles flood the air and catch the light, making everything sparkle. Poppy floats about, trying to avoid them.

POPPY  
You’re way off base, I won’t say it

FELIX  
She won’t say in love

POPPY  
Get off my case, I won’t say it

Felix appears at her side - hair still flowing around him - and pulls out a posy from… somewhere. It is the flowers Zuri gave her back in Part 4.

FELIX  
Girl, don’t be proud  
It’s okay you’re in love

Her eyes rest on them for a moment before she slowly accepts them.

POPPY  
Ooooh  
At least out loud  
I won’t say I’m in…

She closes her eyes and brings the bouquet close to her face.

POPPY  
Love…

FELIX  
Shoo-do, shoo-do, shoo-do, shoo-do  
Sha la la la la la  
Haaaaaa…

They freeze for a few seconds before Poppy realizes Felix is watching her wistfully with his face in his flipper. She frowns and shoots a stream of pixie dust at him, sending him to the ground with a thud. The sunglasses crack.


	9. Hyacinth

The first thing that comes to my attention when I materialize is all the white. White walls, white floors, white columns. Warping and teasing my sight and sense. Everything becomes near, yet far. And I wonder if this is what lies beyond the unconsciousness of the capsule. If prolonged exposure is rewarded with eternity in a blinding abyss. My flower is with me. It’s meager comfort is disquieting.

Reality rips itself open at Lola’s cry of help.

She’s behind me, held by a man cloaked in a suit matching the walls. His arm is wrapped around her neck and the other grasps her wrist. A new, familiar fire ignites within me and sweeps away any self-preserving thought. A shield covers his face. That is my target.

Without a command I shoot a gust of my sharpest pixie dust, breaking the shield and rendering him blind. He screams and brings his hands to his face in a vain attempt to cure his eyes. As my girl scrambles away, I hit him with another, to be sure. Fabric rips. Hairs split. I draw blood. He lets is pain be known before sodding off in haste.

Coward.

In the immediate aftermath, I realize what has occurred. I’m… here. And after only a moment or two - no! Time away is a lie. There is no way to infer its length. I grip my stem as my stomach churns. My ears ring. How long…

Lola frantically calls to me, once again bringing my mind back to the world. My thoughts are turned from myself to the child’s panic. Her hands shake and drop the capsules that would bring forth the team. Rather than reclaim them, she’s brought to the ground by her sobbing. In a whisper I ask why there is danger. She exclaims she must save her friend Lillie and points where we need to go: a towering monument just beyond the white. There is familiarity in her urgency. I think of you.

Out of all of us, why turn to me?

I float to her, this human child who tore me from my world and made me a pawn in hers, who cast me away only to bring me back when it suited her. This bane of a trainer to whom I owe nothing.

 _She doesn’t know what she’s gotten into..._ Curse your heart and take me for a fool.

I cup her frightened, crying face in my hand and promise I will protect her. Her sniveling renders her unresponsive. My frustration finds me too easily. Words of inspiration fall short with me, I’m afraid. How do I put this in a way she will comprehend? For all our time together, your gentle touch and understanding has not altogether found me. …Though there is a phrase scattered in her silly stories. You declared it once before a trial, and I remember it vaguely. _The time has come that we must… storm the castle?_ There must be magic in those words I do not understand, for the girl’s face calms. Courage soars in her eyes.

She goes to work releasing the others. One by one the space fills with them. Several greet me - one in particular sings out an obnoxious hello. You are not here. It is disappointing, but with the daunting, mysterious task ahead, I am also relieved. My attention decisively does not turn to Peaches.

Felix leads the charge. An awkward, melodious seal with a band of fairies, a child, and… Po behind him. There is hardly time to contemplate the circumstances, for the fight is quickly at hand. An uprush of strange excitement surges through me, and my flower is already filling the air with dust. It is a testament to the length of our absence: the hunger for battle is strong.

I may not possess your raw power, not in this state, but at finesse I excel. A black-furred rat finds itself swept to the side by my wind. As it rolls away I hear supportive whispers brush past my ear. A clan of flowers nestled in potted arrangements nearby offer to lend me their aid. My weapon commands their petals to fly and gather and pelt this enemy then the next. Indiscriminate and unyielding. An electric wolf is met with the same fate as its ally, and I search for another opponent. The sight I behold seizes me.

Petals stop mid-air and flutter to the ground. Through their curtain I see him. The white-haired man, Taunting like he did on that day. Grinning like he did on that day. _Laughing like he did on that day._ Tribs’s cry rings in my ear. I see the blood. The fire grows strong and my pixie dust red.

Calling to the petals to follow, I lunge. With a wave I call upon a gale that cuts at his legs and brings him down. I feel the Moon. I smell his fear. I’m prepared for this strike and what it will do. My blow is interrupted by a cry not from Lola nor Felix nor Timothy, but…

Peaches grasps my raised arm. I whirl, furious. How _dare_ he try to impede me. This vile ‘mon who toyed with so many - the cause of my banishment. Who is _he_ to take the high road?

His scarred face fills my view. The lines are deep and stretch above his eye down to his neck. A piece of his cotton collar is gone, no longer able to grow. All inflicted by my hand. His orange eyes are set on me, for the first time without malice or jest or even spite. Only pure and candid pleading.

_Please, Zuri misses you._

You.

The power is still within me. The Moon is still calling. I can still yet attack. Then I would avenge my dear friend and rid the world of such a nasty creature and put it all to rest, finding something resembling peace.

What would you think of me then?

My stands softens. I nearly let my companion fall from my hand. I hear the man make his escape, but I do not pursue. Instead my gaze rises to Peaches’ damaged eye and whisper the most unexpected apology. He says nothing.

Elsewhere the battle continues and resolves, but we float motionless in silence while the Moon feels farther and farther away.

*** * ***

The Sun is so bright. Like… like your smile.

Alright, no - none of that! You’ve taken too many pages out of Felix’s book. Now, you must tell me, how long has it been?

Four… weeks? I don’t comprehend - oh. Oh, a whole cycle! Well no wonder you’re a blubbering mess. Fine, I suppose one hug is in order then. Oh don’t be silly, it didn’t have to be that quick. …Just what are you snickering about now? Time apart has not tarnished your confusing sense of humor.

What seemed so long for you was but a wink for me. All the same, it is beyond refreshing to see you. There’s something new here, I can’t quite explain. But perhaps you can? What all have I missed? Come, there’s a nice spot of moss here for sitting.

So we sit, and I listen. You explain that my expulsion caused a ripple in the team. Peaches and Lola argued as the child struggled with her decision. Our astute leader lost control. The others turned on him, save of course for that overly-benevolent seal. Felix took charge, but kept Peaches close for council and to watch over him during his recovery. A strange sense of pride fills me. I find a question regarding you and the cotton-head escaping me, to which you offer a languid chuckle and a mischievous eye.

What? You said _what_ to him? Now, wait a tick, did I not spit something similar at you the day we met? …You even added, “now shoo.” Wonderful.

In a rare moment, I’m able to understand and share in your laughter.

I think of Peaches’ actions during the battle just in time for you to ask about the white place. For a moment not brief enough I contemplate hiding my monstrosity. Doing so may salvage my chances, but only in the short-haul. My flower lies across my lap. I pet a sepal. One day when I am one with it, the powers it promises me will be under my control. The enlightened state of my life cycle. But for now I am susceptible, and I should not keep it from you.

Your face is unreadable as I recall the events, save for one soft smile when Peaches enters the scene. It worries me only slightly. I feel your hand reach for mine, and I’m uncertain if it is for pity or comfort, but I welcome it. You ask only one question: Why?

Reasoning grief is impossible, I’m afraid. It takes an ugly form in me. The beast is so persistent I wonder if I shall ever be the same.

No, I didn’t love Tribs. Not like-

My hand snatches and wraps around my flower’s stem. This is far more dangerous than the Moon’s whispers. Suppressing such vicious magic comes with practice and care, but red dust could never scar so deeply as being left cold in summer again.

Zuri, if… Well, you see if I did care for someone else on the team, it would be… problematic, no? After all, we face a number of dangers, self-inflicted or otherwise. Surely you know from experience that it isn’t the best course of action for the heart to take. You understand now, it would be foolish for me to-

Yes, what is it?

…

WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE KNOWN???

You… You _vile_ little thing! How could you - how long? No, _how long?!_ Since the garden! Impossible! I wasn’t even - why haven’t you said anything?! No, no, no, don’t give me this _you were confused_ nonsense. Is this why I’m so funny to you? Stop that laughing! No, I am not smiling, this is not a smile - and what in the _world_ is that racket?!

There is singing. Yes, there is definitely singing emanating from that bush. At your call, Felix’s head appears above the leaves, and before he can finish explaining himself I’ve chased him away.

Setting the mood, indeed. Has the entire world gone mad in my absence?

I feel your hand again. It guides me slowly back down to our mossy spot. Your eyes meet me. And there are words that we might say, but eyes are enough. This is more exciting than evolution and more terrifying than a Lurantis. Forgive me, you’ve found my most fragile piece. Please let it down gently. You smile, and it’s bright, and the world goes quiet when your forehead touches mine.

I cannot believe I once found your buzzing annoying.


	10. Forget-Me-Not

I was born from a flower which grew on my mother bloom’s shoulder. The petals opened, relinquishing my newborn form to the Sun’s light. It was bright and frightening. My first comfort was Mother’s hand lifting me to her soft eyes. She nosed my head and named me Poppy, and I wanted nothing more than to remain in that blissful state forever.

She took hold of my birth flower, and with painful force tore it from her body and offered it to me. I grasped a stamen as if it were the most natural thing. A wave of… a miraculous something washed over me. Mother told me it was magic. I discovered I could cause the flower to float. It whispered to me things I did not yet understand. Mother translated that this bloom which gave me life was my weapon and companion. That if I cared for it, I would be rewarded with powerful magic with which to defend myself from an unyielding world. But should we ever be apart, all of my gifts would be snatched away. For fairies of our kind cannot produce pixie dust of our own volition, only borrow from the flowers. The singular way to secure ourselves was to become Florges, like her.

Tend to your companion, embrace its strength, evolve, and make a pilgrimage to find a stone that shines brilliantly as the Sun. For any Floette who brings her tended flower to this sacred rock has earned the right to become a bloom once again. To this day her words are the greatest truth I hold dear.

So you see, Zuri, if what Lola’s mentor says is true, and such a stone may be found in this vast, barren place, I must accompany you. I understand my position on the team has been filled in my absence, but to Lola’s credit she has not forgotten her promise to me. All the same, I’ve pledged myself to aid in the coming trial. There is yet another irritant in our child’s _fairy tales_ that continues to eat at me. _Illustrations,_ as she calls them, of _knights_ swinging Honedge carcasses at fire-breathing beasts. They’ve a death wish, to be sure. Arriving at a den with no magic at hand? Idiots. Whoever imagined such a farce overlooked one simple, natural fact.

Humans in metal shells do not slay dragons. Fairies do.

…No, not myself, personally. It is only the way of things.

Don’t believe for a moment your hands can hide your face. I see you smirking.

Our journey is slowed by my search. It is imperative I check every crack and crevasse for a shine or glimmer. This is the first, concrete opportunity that has befallen me, and I must not overlook any possible hiding places. Your help is immense, between your speed and determination. And this time with you is a gift. You speak enthusiastically of your old home in the hills: days of buzzing about with your siblings, collecting pollen for your queen mother. I never realized you were descended from royalty. How does it work in Lola’s stories again? That’s right. I suppose we should all be calling you Princess Zuri, then.

See? I can make quips at your expense too.

The merriment breeds pauses in our work, yet not a second that goes by feels wasted. I am merely delighted that you are with me on the dawn of my ascension. A warm pocket of air wells in me to know that I may share this moment with you. That when the time comes, you’ll be here to see it.

Despite her promise, I observe Lola’s boredom after a fruitless while. She kicks at the ground in her pacing and glances over at me. It is irritating. Could she not occupy herself with books or that ‘mon machine of hers? Surely she has ways to keep busy. To my surprise, I hear Peaches give a genuine offer to pass the time with training, but we’ve not run into any wilds since the Sun was to our front. Oh, I’m sure it won’t be long before we’ve all sunk our teeth into a good fight. Perhaps that will satiate the monotony.

I’ve come too far. I will not concede to this girl.

A high, melodious sound fills the canyon. It makes me cringe. There’s not a single shock in my discovery of Felix wailing into the abyss. He puts a flipper to his ear and joyously absorbs the echoes that follow. Tragically, Timothy bounds to him and yips with all his might, producing a similar effect. Lola is not far behind with her whistling. The trio continue to make noise and giggle at themselves obnoxiously.

Yes, I know they’re just having fun, but could they possibly do it-

The rumbles from the canyon walls reach my ears right as Peaches sounds the alarm. What slumbering beast they disturbed wastes no time erupting from the cliff side. Through dust and dirt bursts a colossal wyrm plated in gold and silver. Its claws leave gashes in the earth as deep as I am tall, and its tail swings high enough to eclipse the Sun. Two young ones stand sentry at its feet, one larger than the other. Their collective roars are deafening. Bloodlust hungers in their eyes.

Our trainer freezes. It’s Felix who wraps his flippers around her and removes her from harm’s way. Timothy crouches, Peaches flies, and you and I charge as one. The enemy is a towering thing, the likes of which none of us have encountered. I think of our previous trials. Even those monstrosities were diminished in wake of our new foe.

I feel your hand. There is no fear in me.

Peaches’ green dust is the first strike. He goes for the biggest target, draining its strength before the rest of us have a chance to move. I follow with a barrage of my sharpest dust, aiming at the eyes. It slashes at myself and the cotton head, a blow we narrowly dodge. Below I see sparkling clouds of gold and white commanded by you and Timothy as you focus on the young ones. A blue shot of bubble-like dust flies through the air, and I see Felix on the attack while still shielding our trainer.

The dragons fight back in vain. Even at their great size, we are able to hold them off with amazing ease. And it suddenly becomes a wonder to me as to why they would be so bold as to ambush a band of fairies so assuredly.

The answer comes to me too late.

A glint of red catches my eye. It is sudden and swift, and before I can discern what it is, my flower is nearly ripped from my grasp. Its stem is clamped in a great pincer from an insect whose coat is shiny and bright. It is cold to the touch. My chest aches with dread.

Steel.

As it moves, I cling tightly to my companion. Panic escapes as a scream when my hands slip the tiniest bit. My arms envelop it, nearly crushing the petals. I whisper pleas of forgiveness. I cannot let go. I [i]must not[/i] let go! Even death would be a welcome friend over helplessness.

I face the creature in time to see its other claw glow in preparation for a strike. Pixie dust shoots from my hand in desperation. Hitting the eyes, it impairs the thing’s aim, and the searing punch merely grazes my back. But it is pain like I have never felt. It burns. It is poison. It _kills_ fairies. I have seen it. I _know!_

_Mother…_

I cannot let go.

Seeing you come to my rescue this time does not bring me relief. Only fear. I want to scream as you ignore my warnings. This is not something you can simply pelt pollen at - stop! Stop that! _Flee, damn you!_

You’re hit. Your crash forms a dust cloud that I search frantically for signs of movement. It’s faint and irregular, but I hear your buzzing. It is the sweetest sound in the world. The air clears to reveal your shaking arms lifting you up. I see the tear in your wing, and breath leaves me. You can’t fly, and the creature is already preparing another attack. My eyes try to look at everything: you, our enemy, my flower. It is there my gaze rests the longest. I am weak. I am so weak, but…

You need a shield.

No. No, I can’t… I grip my flower. All that I have ever had. My birth, my home, my lifelong friend. My weapon who granted me magic and flight, who allowed me to live for as long as I have. I dread what it would mean to lose it. And what it would mean to lose you.

Very well.

I gather as much pixie dust dust as I can muster. I breathe my goodbye and hear whispers of understanding. One shot - it propels me forward onto you, and I take the hit. In an everlasting moment all the world is torn from me, ripped away so that I may once again endure every heartache and unhappy memory. They stab my heart and drag my soul down into the earth in an act so final it could only be death. Then it is brushed away by a gust of wind and magic. I smell sea salt and nectar. I feel sand. I see how dew sparkles when you brush the morning grass into the light. I foolishly think… Tribs?

And then there is nothing.

And then there is your voice.

You bring me back - you and your pollen. My eyes open to your crying face, and it might have broken my heart if you did not smile. A large drop of water splashes on my arm, and that is when I notice Felix with his flippers covering his mouth. His face is a waterfall. Both of you ought to stop that nonsense.

I have but enough strength to reach my arm up and touch your broken wing. You say it can be fixed. I hope so.

The fight is still happening. I panic. My flower. Where is it?! 

Somehow, I roll onto my belly. You protest, but I must find it. My eyes search the area, which appears to be only limbs and pixie dust and dirt. Peaches brings the red steel insect to ground with more conviction than I’ve ever seen from him. Timothy barrages the last dragon with his magic. I take no further time to watch them. It is crucial that I find… There. Right over there, it lies… with more over there… and over there… Everywhere…

I call to it and listen.

I hear nothing.

All the roars and crashes around me, and the world has never been so quiet.

I pierce the air with a wail and try to crawl forward. My tail drags across the dirt, bit by bit. No, Zuri, don’t. Do not try to stop me - tell Felix to quit his worrying. It needs me. My flower - it needs me! I’m the only… I’m the only one who can…

Breathing becomes an impossible task. My strength fails me, and I collapse. I see the golden light from your pollen, but I feel nothing. There is naught but your pleas for me to stay with you.

Darling… I am trying…

_Once there was the Sun_  
_Bright and warm and wonderful_  
_Shining like the love within my heart_

_Now there’s no more Sun_  
_Winter has killed everything_  
_And although it’s dark December, forever_  
_I’ll remember Sun…_

My body is so sore.

I am lying on something soft. A cushion? No, larger.

My eyes realize they can open. The walls lead me to believe I’ve returned to the White Place. Those fears are put to rest when I see how small the room is. There are human machines I do not recognize, and a stale scent hangs in the air. A cloth is draped over my lower half.

Lola is with me. She’s curled up and asleep, her face merely an arm’s length from me. Faint lines of salt move downward from her eyes, stains left by tears. I feel inclined to touch her face, but any and all strength fails me. It is as if the very air holds me in place.

Something glints in her hand. Even in sleep she clutches it tightly, as if fearing it will disappear otherwise. I stare and wonder what it could be until I see it catch the light again. Its identity is unmistakable - a stone which shines like the Sun.

My chest falls. There it is. All that I have strived and worked for. The key to my destiny. So close I could touch it. And somewhere out in that barren wasteland my companion is torn and strewn across the dirt, dead and gone forever. Without it, I cannot float or produce dust. I can never become Florges. My trainer kept her promise to me, but far too late.

The weight of it all is crushing. It can’t be true. No. No, no, no, no! After _everything,_ I cannot be damned this way!

I let out a cry that springs Lola awake. I cover my eyes and wail in agony. The child implores me to calm down. I scream at her to leave. There is a commotion - urgent voices and footsteps. A human hand touches me, and I sweep it away. All the world is pain and noise until a soft buzzing breaks through.

You’re hovering at the door, as though waiting for a signal. The sight of you dulls something inside, and your sad smile is almost reassuring. In your hand is a posy of baby blue darlings.

By the Sun, you remembered.

You place them in my lap. Their faint, familiar whispers are welcome, and their brilliant color is an oasis in the stale, dull room. I clutch them to my chest in desperate worry. You understand what they mean, do you not? Do you truly feel this way?

Your nod should convince me, but it doesn’t.

We sit alone for some time, rarely speaking. I wish not to, if possible. I’m fearful of what I might say. Holding your arm like a stem is a comfort, but looking at you insights more pain. You are here and alive, which can only mean my most precious companion is lost, and that I shall remain useless for an eternity. Am I horrid to feel regret? If I let go, will you be gone as well?

Please. Please forgive me. Please tell me that what I feel is right. Please don’t leave me now that I am crippled.

*** * ***

My body’s recovery takes days, though it bears no difference to me. Broken or no, I will never fly again. Crawling along by my hands is humiliating, so I stay in place. Felix carts me around as Lola prepares to take me from the Center. I’m relieved when we’ve left, and he settles me on a cushion near a window. It takes too much insistence of my well-being to convince him to leave. I assure him that the view is enough for now. Still, as time passes the glass becomes a cruel barrier. It shows me the grass and sky, dangling them and taunting my inabilities. I cannot smell or hear the batch of flowers out there, only watch as they sway. My hands habitually grab for something that isn’t there. They are incomplete and empty.

I wish to be moved, but asking is too large a task. So I sit and watch and weep.

You breathe my name, and I realize with embarrassment that you’ve been here a while. Somehow I did not hear you.

I’m alright, truly. Go on, your final battle is on the horizon. You should train for it.

But rather than leave, you do something curious. You tuck one arm under my tail and wrap the other around my back. I grasp you in near panic, and you giggle when I ask if you can even lift me.

It is different than being carried by a bouncing seal. Your flight is so steady and smooth, it’s only the wind that denotes motion. As we glide through the building and out an open window, you begin to - not buzz - _hum._ Melodiously. Taking cues from Felix now, are you? I have never been one for such music. 

Do not stop.

The air is clean and smells of flowers. I can hear them - a village of white, pink, and purple friends. They’re joyful to see us. You pause at each group and allow me to greet them. Being among them is almost healing, but even a homecoming after such tragedy cannot cure what is broken. Your efforts are noble, however…

The humming stops. We stare at each other, and it may have caused my heart to jump a bit. You ask if this hurts. It does, only as a reminder of what I have lost. All the same, I need them. Really and truly. How on earth could I continue on without what I hold so dear? However much suffering they may bring, it would destroy me to let them go. If they ever… cast me aside, so be it, but for me to deny myself their beauty, their kindness, and the sound of their laughter would be the most foolish thing I could conceive. I love them too much, you see.

I hold my breath. Your expression is the softest and most lovely thing, and I wish always invoke the feeling in you that makes it.

_I love you, too._


	11. Gracidea

What you must understand about flowers is language is everything. When one puts a collection together one is conveying something words could never hope to speak. Thus each piece of the message must be chosen carefully.

So when I set forth to create a bouquet for you, I found myself spending days cataloging every type of flower in my head. As you and the others train I sit myself on the side in a… _wheeled chair,_ as Lola put it - a device made small enough for children’s dolls. It took time to comprehend how it worked, but after some practice I became mobile on simple, flat terrains. This welcomed bit of independence allowed for me to be alone with my contemplation. All the better, for this gift must be perfect. My plan is to present the bouquet after your upcoming championship battle, an event that will denote the end of our journey. What better way to signify this than to gather those flowers which best represents our time together? Both the good and the bad. You adore stories, and so this bouquet shall be just that.

Yes. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

I employee Felix and Timothy to aid me - of course after making them swear on their dust they won’t go blabbing. Our venture involves secrecy and care, and I would forever crash my head against a tree should one of that seal’s songs spoil the surprise.

It takes time for us to locate and collect them all. The first is a bright, yellow child. Five petals with a cluster of stamens. A tribute to my immature nature upon our first meeting. Despite its adverse meaning, I am forced to recognize it as a distant cousin of my late companion. I hoist it onto my shoulder as I would before and imagine, just for a moment, that I am complete again. Though no matter how hard I wish it, it is impossible for me to be compatible with another flower. I must not waste time on such flights of fancy. They will only prolong the pain…

I swiftly move on to finding the next. At my word, Timothy dashes into a human garden and fetches it for me. A tower-like inflorescence with a deep, pink hue. Haughtiness, it means. For my regretful arrogance in mocking your feelings, however confused or unguided they may have been, for Peaches. They were real to you then, and perhaps if I had used kinder words, you might have listened and not experienced such heartbreak.

The next is composed of many tiny white bells, clustered closely together in a strong group. I shall never forget that day in the jungle when you saved me. Well, when you first saved me. My brave protector.

When I share with Felix my idea to add something from the bouquet I composed for that silly wedding, he brightens. In a flash he is rummaging through Lola’s pack, tossing things about until he obtains whatever he’s looking for. He returns with the very thing I was referring, though now the flowers are dried and shriveled, practically breaking apart. It has grown quite unappealing, yet he still kept it. I have to laugh, and am genuinely touched by his offer to add them to your gift. Though I suggest we find a more fresh one for purposes, so that he may keep his treasure. He runs off in search once I describe it to him: a bloom with a single, lush white petal swirling from the stem. For your purity and innocence. And perhaps for his, too.

For the start of our friendship I choose a curiously heart-shaped, red flower sporting a singular anther cone. I shall regard that rainy day in the garden as one of my favorites, always. We should return to that place one day.

My heart grows heavy with the next addition. It has a rare, deep blue with a black center, like an eye. Death and a loss of hope, for dear Tribs. I remember what he said to me the day I was taken from my meadow, to be kind to others. He offered me patience and understanding when others turned away, and not a day goes by that I do not miss him. Perhaps I can honor his memory by heeding his advice.

I am almost hesitant to relive the memory of my darkest moment, but it is something I must never forget. And so for the dangerous passion that banished me from the team I supply a dark, red flower with many petals. It brings to me images of blood and dark magic. If there is one blessing in losing my powers it is that I shall never again be tempted by the Moon and her deadly, red pixie dust.

As though it were poetry, it is Peaches who offers the succeeding contribution. He’s become quiet and solitary since my return, and after our adventures at the White Place we’ve not said a word to one another. I am skeptical as to how he discovered my plan, and when I glare and Felix and Timothy, the two look away innocently. A pair of chatterboxes is what they are. All the same I’m unable to hide my surprise when Peaches offers me a single, stout cluster of brilliant purple blooms. Even more so am I bewildered to learn he knows their meaning: forgiveness.

My face softens as I accept the gift. In return I pluck a bloom off the stem and hold it out to him. He silently grins and tucks the flower into his cotton before taking his exit. I do not foresee friendship in our future, but distant civility may be a perfect relationship for us two.

I plan to sprinkle the bouquet with baby blue darlings to signify our love for one another. They, along with some ferns Timothy gathered, will round it out very nicely. It is bittersweet to look upon them. Once I held a sprig in wait for my old love, only for her to abandon me. Now I may see them and think of you doing the same. It warms my heart to know that you are sincere. Blessed be every moment hereafter that we are together.

The final flower is the most important of all. It is a rare bloom, and most of our efforts are dedicated to the search. Felix holds me high as I scan every bed and meadow carefully. Three days go by without sight of it until Timothy finds it hanging in a basket outside a human place. Through the window I see a number of flowers, many of which I do not recognize. Lola explains this is a _florist shop,_ and I’m perplexed at how little I still understand about her kind, with how long I have been in domestication. Perching on her shoulder, we go inside, and I watch with fascination as she exchanges small slips of paper for the flower I need. Felix calls them _monies,_ and apparently she is able to do this so long as she is in possession of them.

That is good to know.

Before we depart, one flower whispers its salutations to me. It is perfectly round with a ring of golden petals crowning a large, dark head. I know its significance: friendship.

I hold tight to Lola’s braid in thought. My opinion of this child has swung from detest to even the smallest bout of trust, and here at the end I’m unsure of where I stand. Our agreement never saw fruition. Now here I am, a ‘mon unable to battle. In a word, useless. So I wonder if it is out of pity or guilt that she keeps me around, or if it could be something more? You’ve cared for her so deeply from the start, seeing something I have been blind to, while I’ve done nothing but insult and scoff at her ridiculous tendencies. Believing that real fairies resemble those in her storybook. Marching forward on her quest, even when the threat of death should have stopped her.

Though I suppose in that way she and I are alike.

She turned to me for help when danger struck her. She cried for me in the Center. She kept her promise as well as she could.

I ask softly in her ear if she could exchange more monies for that friendly flower so that I may gift it to her.

*** * ***

Zuri, I… Congratulations on your victory. All of you, but well, especially you. I mean, defeating a fire-spitting feline single-handed is no easy feat for fairies of our size. Watching it fall turned my fear into pride. Your strength is a marvel.

I… Well, I’ve made you something. The others helped, a great deal, actually. It’s a bouquet - a story! I shall tell it to you when things have settled, but you see this flower, this pink one right here in the front, with the six petals? This is the most poignant in the bunch. It indicates something powerful and complicated, even more so than love, in a sense.

You see, this feeling is a journey to achieve, especially when someone is such a vain and condescending thing as I. Nothing is more challenging than change, and it is external change which combats the internal, daring it to grow or shrink. It is a dangerous juncture, but one must choose a path. Sometimes we are blind to those who help us along the best route. We may even reject them or question motives. There are times - there will be times - when it is difficult to need someone. And one cannot express true gratitude without finding humility first. I tell you today that your kindness and love have led me to it.

You have believed in me, encouraged me, laughed with me - and at me, you card. You have cried with me and healed me and loved me. If it pleases your heart to continue to do so, I would like us to remain this way. Together. I wish to help you. With what or how, it does not matter. Whatever my incomplete self can provide. Even if it is merely sweet conversation by the riverside. Or comfort in times of strife. I love you, and I’ll tend to you. How does it sound?

Hmm, what was that? Say again.

…

Thank you, Zuri. Thank you.


End file.
